


A Whiff of the Old Brimstone

by HankTalking



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Gen, Going to Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:35:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29065188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HankTalking/pseuds/HankTalking
Summary: Demoman’s Inferno, or part 1 of the never to be completed Demoman’s Divine Comedy
Relationships: Demoman & Eyelander (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	A Whiff of the Old Brimstone

A few last minute checks, and Demo patted the circle of stones, standing back to admire his handiwork. It was nothing to fawn over: a few well-angled rocks that had once made a doorway of some ancient vault, now repurposed into a portal to stand guard in a lonely corner of wood. With the keystone fitted snugly into place and few runes carved into the side, it was ready to go.

That thing really going to do it?

Demo shrugged. “Should. Everything’s all in order, symbols are right.” He cast his gaze back to the Eyelander, which was propped up against the nearest boulder. “You doubtin’ my construction skills?”

I doubt all of your skills, bloody drunkard.

He snorted, but the damn thing had a point. Magic certainly wasn’t his forte—he tried to avoid the stuff when he could—but for this he would make an exception. He gathered the pad of paper he’d left close by, littered with tracings and hand written notes, lines scratched out and stanzas added. He began to chant. A smattering of Latin phrases, few bits of Gaelic thrown in here and there, a healthy portion of absolute nonsense—combined, the spell began to unfurl, coaxing out a green glow in the arch of stones. When he stepped back, a roiling vortex of vague purple was swirling within the stones.

“Well. There it is then.” He walked over to the boulder, swinging Eyelander back into its scabbard. After all, no hero should ever challenge the devil without his trusty weapon. “We ready?”

As I’ll ever be.

With that, the pair strode through the gates of Hell.

It was a lot different than Demo remembered. However, it should be noted that he wasn’t sure if he’d ever actually seen Hell proper, as weird Skull Islands and infernal bumper car dimensions possibly didn’t count. As he walked, towers of gothic spikes coiled and moved, sprouting from the ground like bursting sunflowers and never ceasing until they disappeared into the grey expanse that could only be described as a lightless sky. The path that he found himself on was surrounded by what appeared to be houses at first, but the longer he stared, the more he realized that their forms didn’t fit quite right: too doors too narrow for a human to walk through, chimneys that situated themselves over windows. Their material was that of wood, but wood utterly featureless, pure black and stretched like molded plastic—everywhere he turned the buildings leaned forward to listen to his heartbeat.

This wasn’t his personal hell, but it certainly was someone’s. As he marveled at the perpetually grim place, he noticed that his surroundings became more familiar the further he got from the portal. Heat greeting him along the cheeks, rivers of lava springing along the crooked path, and the smell of brimstone assaulting his nose.

“Aha!” he told Eyelander jovially. “There he is!”

No no I’m telling you gotta put the sand on the sky too. The point its it’s supposed to get everywhere so-

The Bombinomicon, who had been delegating to a lesser demon with a clipboard and a pair of cat’s eye glasses, glanced up.

Heeeyyy! Tavish guy. Weird place to run into you. Long time no see, eh? So you finally bite it, or you take a sneaky way in?

“Old faery circle,” Tavish explained with a shrug. Although Bombinomicon wasn’t exactly his favorite (person?) to deal with, he was a lot better than the previous management, and he didn’t particularly think the old book would try to trap him here. “Took a bit of conjugating, but I finally got the spell to work.”

Hah nice nice. Technically against the rules but eh.

“Don’t you make the rules now?” Tavish tilted his head. “You’re the bloody devil! Who’s telling _you_ what to do?”

Eugh, Hell politics, don’t want to get into it. But hey! Eyelander, that you stabbystuff? Niiiiice sheath. Looks good on you. ‘D look even better off you, eh? POW ZOOP.

You ever hear of a paper cutter? Big fookin’ blade that does nothing all day but chop loud arse encyclopedias in half? I’m willing to make a last minute change in occupation.

Demo cast an eye over his shoulder and raised a brow. “You two know each other?”

There’s only so many immortal cursed objects in the world. You run into them all sooner or later.

Glancing up at the Bombinomicon again, Demo noticed that he was downright colossal now, hovering on the path to Skull Island as his assistant chattered something in infernal to him. Although he knew the book could change his size at will, there was probably still some sort of intimidation factor at play—one didn’t become the new devil and just expect the old management to simmer down and sit out.

So, what are you doing here? Didn’t come down just to see ‘ole Bombinomicon I bet.

“Actually,” Demo admitted. “I did.”

With that, he lifted up his eyepatch.

Whoa hey! New eye!

“Aye, it’s getting it to stay there that’s the problem.” Demo let the patch fall back into place. “That’s why I’m here: Bombinomicon, you’re going to un-curse my damn socket.”

Uhhhh…

The book shrunk down slightly, up until it was about the size of Demoman as he floated in front of him.

No can do actually.

“And why not?” Demo folded his arms. He’d come prepared to kick the stupid book’s ass, but he wanted was going to give him a chance first.

I told you guy, I don’t make the rules, just the curses. Once the curse is cursed I’m not the guy in charge.

“What if I don’t believe you?” Demo asked, and he could feel Eyelander getting excited.

Whoa hey now! Look no need for that, eh? I gotta enough trouble with all these demons breathing down my spine—no offense Miss Smalling—

The imp chittered.

—And I really don’t have the energy to start making bombs rain down here. I just took out a timeshare.

“Fine, don’t fight me then. Just de-haunt my eye so this stupid thing stays in place.” Demo pointed on accusing finger at the eyepatch.

It’s out of my hands Tavish! But uh- Okay, okay don’t start drawing that thing! Look I’m telling you curses are weird. Weird rules and stuff and if you want a loophole then uh…Okay listen to this: if you can defeat MONOCULUS! in single combat, that’ll be an eye for an eye, right? Spell’s broken, and the curse’ll lift. Easy right? No harm done.

“‘Cept for the past three decades I’ve had to walk around without a damn eye.”

Eh, details. Hey, I’ll even let you do it here! It’ll be cool, we can charge admission.

Demo pondered that for a moment. “How are you going to get Monoculus down here?”

Oh easy. I’m still the wizard’s book technically: I summon Merasmus, he summons MONOCULUS!. Pow zoop.

That seemed reasonable enough, and reasonably thematic too. Perhaps an excellent finisher to a satisfying hero’s journey?

“Alright book,” Demo agreed. “You got yourself a deal. S’ long as there isn’t any paperwork involved.”

Guy this is Hell. Of course there’s paperwork.

* * *

So. You really sure about this?

Pausing from his task of making sure the Bombinomicon wasn’t double-crossing him, Demo glanced over his shoulder. “Not getting cold feet now, are you?” he asked as he held the manila folder open in front of him.

Demo waited a while, but the Eyelander didn’t respond, which was weirdly out of character. Still, they were almost at their destination, so he didn’t press.

“This looks like the place.” He folded his papers, stepped up to the plain wooden door stood in the middle of empty space, and knocked.

“… _Who-?_ ”

The door was flung open, revealing a room inside and a very large demon blocking its entrance. Both the room and the demon were very ritzy, the former sporting rows and rows of immaculate bookshelves and the later modeling a sharp suit.

“Ah,” Demo noted. “You’re the old Devil, aren’t you?”

“ _The-?_ ” The Devil grit his teeth. “And who exactly are _you_?”

“Herr Demoman?” A voice called from within. Demo peered around the Devil’s massive side to see Medic lounging within the cushy room, sitting in a chair and playing with a fountain pan. “Aha! That it is. Well don’t just stand there, come in come in.”

“Do not invite him into _my_ office-”

But Demo was already squeezing in under the Devil’s arm. “Eh, thanks lad. What in the world are you doing here though?”

“I could ask you the same question!” Medic greeted cheerily, then noticed his eyepatch. “You have lost that thing already, have you? It’s barely been a day Demo!”

“Ach, no. In fact, today I’m getting the curse on it lifted, so it doesn’t go the same as all the others.”

“I see, I see,” Medic mused. “Well take that patch off then, I do like to see my handiwork.”

Demo’s grin felt a little stiff, but after a moment of hesitation, he obliged. Many, many years had formed a habit hard to break, and he found he was still nervous walking around without the patch, even with no ugly gaping hole to cover up. That, and he still wasn’t quite used to the depth perception. He felt like he spent all his time blinking at random things as his brain tried sort them out, squinting about like a child on a sunny day.

He was only left to stand rigidly in front of Medic a moment longer before the Devil came bursting back in. “You are _unwelcome here_. We are in the middle of an important contract renegotiation-”

“Actually, I think this meeting has just about concluded,” Medic said pleasantly. “I honestly haven’t heard anything tempting, and I really must be getting back to the mortal realm as I have several time-sensitive experiments I need to check on.” To Demo, he clarified, “they involve fast-acting toe fungus.”

“Ah.”

“If I might go out the same way you came in?” Medic asked. “The way I arrived wasn’t all together pleasant, and I’d rather avoid it if I can.”

“Sure,” Demo shrugged. “I’ll be sure to show you the way back, but first I have a spot of business with the big man here.”

The Devil, who had literal flames coming out of his ears and looked like might have just skewered Medic then and there, immediately dropped from rage into a look of hunger. “Business, is it?” he said, sliding into his massive chair, folding his hands and resting his elbows on the desk. “Well as your friend here can attest, we have an _excellent_ series of contracts-”

“Oh no,” Demo dissuaded. “I’m looking to sign anything. I actually need _you_ to sign some stuff for me.”

The Devil’s face dropped until it was completely blank. “Me.”

“Aye!” Demo slid the folder across the desk. “This is a permit for arcane dueling within the Murder Arena, which needs to be signed by the Vice Chairman of the Council of Demons. Which is you.”

“ _Vice_ Chairman?” Medic mused. “Not even Chairman anymore? My how far you’ve fallen my friend.”

The pen clasped in the Devil’s hand slowly bent, a horrid screeching of plastic, until it snapped clean in two, blood running ruby red down his palm and onto the carpeted floor. Huh. Demo always assumed that ‘singing a contract in blood’ meant you had to use your own, but apparently it could just belong to any old person.

“Ah, that’d be right here,” Demo offered, leaning over and tapping the line.

“Well I see you both have this handled,” Medic said cheerily as the Devil put his head in his hands. “Ill just wait outside. Auf wiedersehen my friend, same time next month?”

* * *

When the Devil finally pushed Medic and Demo out his door—with extreme force—it was into an entirely different location from where Demo had entered. This place was nothing but an endless beach, constantly grey, constantly just warm enough to think you needed a jacket and yet just cold enough to make you regret that decision the whole walk along. Also, it rained sand.

What’s left then?

“One last thing, got to light the braziers on the top of the mountain and summon the infernal host for the duel,” Demo shivered. “I think they’re ah…‘witnesses’? Long and short we need an audience out for blood.”

The mountain in front of him grew no closer, and the Medic behind him grew more distant as the doctor kept wandering off to look at the strange species of crab that lived on the beach. In the practical sense, he and Eyelander were alone as they made their way against the wet sand particles that rose to greet them.

Huh. Usually there’s three.

“Three?”

Three tasks that the hero has to do. It’s the way these things usually work.

Demo shrugged. “I think there’s three braziers. Or maybe fighting Monoculus counts as the third?”

I dunno. Maybe. Hey er…Tav. You sure you want to do this?

One of the little cigarette-holding crabs skittered out of the way of Demo’s crunching feet. “Of course I do. How else am I going to keep both eyes?”

You mean the new eye you don’t even actually like? I don’t see why you both of ‘em, I got _no_ eyes and I get along just fine.

“Look, this is important, alright?” Demo felt a spike in his pulse, and wondered why he was getting so defensive. The stupid sword probably just didn’t want to fight a near-invulnerable floating eyeball. “This is my one chance to…to fix things up. It’s not easy walking around as a bloody freak all the time.”

No one thinks you’re a freak Tav. You’ve had new eyes on and off for the past eleven years, and no one’s treated you any different than how they always do.

“You got a point you bloody butter knife?” His mood was really in the thresher now, and the inclement weather seemed to press in, sensing his weakness.

Monoculus is a damn beast. You don’t have to throw your life away on this. You’ve got people who care about you. Uh…not me. Obviously. But people.

Demo bitterly kicked the beach, sand as blank and static as the rest of this place. “Yeah? Like who.”

Your Mum. Scout, Engineer. That BLU bastard. I think even Spy would be sad if you karked it.

That statement caught Demo off guard, enough that he actually snorted with a bit of humor. “Really? Trying to make me think folks would weeping at my grave and the best you can come up with is _Spy_?”

Maybe. He’s weird about that sort of thing. Medic too, he likes you in his own way.

Demo cast a backwards glance. Medic was now pocketing a few of the crabs. “If you know the first thing about Medic, is that the man prefers freaks for his company.”

Yeah. And yet he likes you just as much with two eyes as one. He doesn’t see a difference either.

For the first time, Demo had nothing to say to his sword. He rotated his backwards glance a little further in, blinking at the Eyelander still secure on his back. He knew the sword was looking back. When he turned forward again, for the first time, the mountain actually seemed closer.

* * *

“Well, there it is,” Demo said, the last brazier flicking to life. He was very glad that the Eyelander’s magical glow counted as fire, otherwise he would have gotten all the way up this damn mountain and been shit out of luck.

“Wunderbar,” Medic hummed. “What is our strategy for this upcoming battle then?”

“As much as I’d usually love your help doc,” Demo sighed. “I got to do this on my own. Eye vs eye, you ken?”

“Truly?” Medic tilted his head. “No assistance at all? That seems terribly impractical. One should never fight his battles alone.”

Demo opened his mouth. He wasn’t sure what he was meant to say, how he should explain what this duel meant when he’d been carrying the curse’s burden his whole life. How it wasn’t really throwing his life away if it felt like he was the wrong one living it. However, all that was cut short as the Bombinomicon appeared in a cloud of purple smoke.

Hey guy! All ready to go?

Demo looked around. He could see the whole of Hell from here or, at the very least, all of Hell he had covered in his short journey. He looked to Medic, standing by curiously, then to the sword that sat silently against him.

“You know Bombinomicon,” he said finally, hardly believing the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I think I changed my mind. You don’t need to summon Merasmus or anything.”

Really?

He hesitated. “Aye. Really.”

Woo, what a relief, I was going to have to owe that guy big time. He still wants me to apologize for turning people’s heads into bombs and making them run at him.

“I’ll bet.” Demo rolled his shoulders. “Well, I guess that’s it then. Sorry for such a detour, doc.”

“No trouble at all,” Medic said cheerfully petting a crab that had not been in his hands a moment ago. “Was a very interesting diversion.”

“And I guess see you,” Demo told the lord of Hell. “‘Til we meet again.”

Yeah yeah laters. In the meantime, try not to get here the usual way, yeah?

And then the book was gone.

Demo led Medic the long way down the mountain, back through the desert with the door, over the lava flows, under the nosy houses. The door home was still open, still waiting. As they approached, Demo said softly enough that Medic wouldn’t hear, “hey. Thanks Eyelander.”

Yeah well. If you croaked, I was going to have to find a new wielder.

Demo chuckled. “Love you too, you stupid ghost.”


End file.
